


Hold my leash

by madhatt



Category: Dark Avengers (Comic), Dark Wolverine (Comics), Marvel (Comics)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, at least as fluff as these two can be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-17 08:57:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4660473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madhatt/pseuds/madhatt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a battle, Daken and Bullseye relax in each other's arms. But not in the way usual for them.  Bullseye just knows this gentleness should worry him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold my leash

**Author's Note:**

> A fic requested by [manicr](http://manicr.tumblr.com/) . The prompt was: “You must have me mistaken for a pet.”

No matter how vile was their behavior, or how psychotic their personalities, at the end of the day, Norman Osborn's Avengers were only human. Most of them. At least in a figurative way. And thus, after a particularly exhausting mission, full of blood shed and guts spilled, while the desperate screams filled the air, it was only expected that they would need to not only unwind, but first and foremost _enjoy_ the much deserved rest.

That's what Bullseye kept telling himself now, as he was lying sprawled on the couch, news channel broadcasting somewhere in the background. Not that he really needed a good reason to chill on the couch in front of the television, after a successful, satisfying and very bloody mission to 'save the world'. Norman's words, not his. Still, he felt like, for his own peace of a degenerate mind, some explanation, or rather an excuse, was necessary – not for the pleasantly aching muscles and the mind foggy after the high it had experienced during the fight, but rather for the fact, that he was currently sprawled on top of Daken, half asleep and blissfully relaxed.

The main reason was the couch itself, that most certainly hadn't been designed with two grown men in mind. That's why, after a quick and surprisingly bloodless fight and much fumbling, Bullseye had finally ended up lying on top of Daken, his head nestled in the crook of the other's neck and shoulder, against the skin that still pleasantly smelled of sweat and dirt, and something that was entirely Daken. It worried him a little. Partly because he shouldn't be this familiar with the smell of the other man. But mostly, because that was what Daken did, didn't he? Smell all good and put a spell on whoever was unfortunate enough to grab his attention. The thought was like a breath of fresh air, making him think a little clearer. He tensed and made to move but, “Stop thinking Lester, I'm not in the mood for that now,” said Daken, making Bullseye relax fast. Suspiciosly fast.

But it wasn't something Bullseye felt the need to worry about, whispered a voice inside his head. Not when he felt Daken's warm body underneath him. It was an unusual thing, for them to be this still and close. Most often, when they touched, those were angry and heady encounters, full of biting, scratching and degrading. And wasn't that just exactly what Bullseye needed? As much as he hated the man underneath him, he couldn't deny just how much he enjoyed it, every time they collided with each other and Daken would rub his whole body against him, begging to be _fucked,_ for Bullseye to _tame_ him, like an animal the other was. And Bullseye listened to him, because Daken would arch his body whenever Bullseye thrust into him, and he would moan at every slap to his face and hiss after every new cut on his skin, that healed so fast, readying Daken's body for more abuse...

“Don't think about it now, we can do that later,” said Daken, his voice lazy and oddly convincing. As were his fingers that found their way to Bullseye's scalp and were now massaging the skin there.

They were never this delicate and affectionate with each other.

Why was he letting this gentleness continue? It was nice. He didn't do nice.

It was just another stray thought that Bullseye discarded quickly. Instead he focused on Daken's fingers that were petting his head. He hummed contently.

“I like it when you purr for me,” said Daken. Bulseye frowned. People couldn't purr and wasn't that a ridiculous thought to occur to him right now.

“You must have me mistaken for a pet,” he murmurred finally, although it was a half-hearted protest at best.

“Oh I assure you, it would be hard to mistake you for anything you are not, _Lester_ ,” answered Daken and Bullseye felt like he should feel insulted, but with the pleasant nothingness consuming his mind, he couldn't think of why. And why would he even want to think about that? Answering questions, even those he was asking himself, was getting harder. It was too comfortable to care about anything and the heady _smell_ of Daken...

This smell was the last thing on his mind, before he finally drifted off, a false sense of safety and affection letting a deep sleep  engulf him, in the arms of a man that held his leash.

 

 


End file.
